Sunday, July 17, 2005
Jesse and Me
One of the stories I heard about myself repeated over and over was the story of my Grandfather Jesse and me as a toddler.
As the story goes, the adventure took place after Sunday lunch in Jesse's two-story house in Hanford. I think I saw a picture of this house once. It had a wrap-around porch on the first story. The porch was on the front of the house and on the left side. On the right side of the house there were windows on the first and second story, but it was an uninterrupted two-story side wall.
It was a warm spring day and the second story bedroom windows were open. On the inside, the windows had see-through sheer white curtains, plain, just gathered at the top and covering the full expanse of the window panes top and bottom. On the outside of the windows, there were removable framed screens. The screens were held in the window opening with simple hook latches anchored by little eye-bolts.
The story goes that I was about 18 months old, a toddler into everything. Since it was after lunch, it was nap time. Jesse volunteered to watch over me as Betty (Jesse's wife and my grandmother) and Joan (Jesse's son's wife and my mother) cleaned up in the kitchen after lunch.
Jesse took me upstairs, layed down on the bed that was pushed up against the wall with the open window. He turned on the bedside radio, turned me on my stomach, placing me between him and the windowed wall. He did not want me to roll over and fall off the bed, so he lay down on the side of the bed away from the wall to sort of pen me onto the bed. He put his hand on my back and I quieted down and went to sleep.
So did he.
I woke up, sat up and was curious about the curtains and the window. I explored the window opening and managed to unlatch the base of the screen. I crawled out the window and was hanging by my fingers and screaming when Jesse woke up.
Jesse could not figure out where the screaming was coming from. He looked around the room, did not see me, figured the screaming was coming from outside, rushed downstairs and tore around to the side of the house. He found me hanging from the second-story window.
He pulled off his belt and swung at me, trying to get me to let go and drop down into his waiting arms. However, the belt snapped me in the legs and I was so stunned by the pain, I climbed right back up and into the window.
When he came back upstairs, I was whimpering, sitting on the bed and sucking my thumb. He called me the little monkey from then on.
I remember pictures of me as a toddler penned on the front porch of the house on the ranch. I was about one and half or two. The wire base of a crib is tied to the opening on the porch in an effort to keep me in. However, I was very good at getting things open. I worked at the lashings, locks, catches, latches and hinges for hours of dedicated concentration.
My grandmother Leona came up for a visit and told the story of tethering me on a rope leash to the clothesline. I could move from one end of the line to the other. A neighbor came to visit and was visibly shocked that I was leashed like a yard dog. My behavior was way outside the normal for a little girl. I was constantly in motion and was a consummate escape artist.
I got things under control by the time I was in second grade. I could sit in a chair quietly most of the time. And by the fifth grade, I could control my motormouth pretty much all of the time.
My grandmother Leona used a game to get me to learn to control my incessant talking. We were going downtown for some reason and were dressed up and sitting on a bus bench waiting for a bus to come. My grandmother bet me a quarter that I could not be quiet until the next red car passed us by. I was about 8 or 9. I tried very hard. I remember starting to bubble over when I spotted a red car, but I put my hand over my mouth and pointed, pulling on my grandmother's arm to get her attention on the red car.
She did this twice, so that I got two quarters. Then she would not play the game anymore. She said she would be broke and that I had proved I could be quiet if I really wanted to. Thus, I was paid to learn to control my mouth.
When my grandson Nathan had his birthday last week, I gave him a pair of furry spider monkeys that make a loud sort of natural screech.
They reminded me of me.
As the story goes, the adventure took place after Sunday lunch in Jesse's two-story house in Hanford. I think I saw a picture of this house once. It had a wrap-around porch on the first story. The porch was on the front of the house and on the left side. On the right side of the house there were windows on the first and second story, but it was an uninterrupted two-story side wall.
It was a warm spring day and the second story bedroom windows were open. On the inside, the windows had see-through sheer white curtains, plain, just gathered at the top and covering the full expanse of the window panes top and bottom. On the outside of the windows, there were removable framed screens. The screens were held in the window opening with simple hook latches anchored by little eye-bolts.
The story goes that I was about 18 months old, a toddler into everything. Since it was after lunch, it was nap time. Jesse volunteered to watch over me as Betty (Jesse's wife and my grandmother) and Joan (Jesse's son's wife and my mother) cleaned up in the kitchen after lunch.
Jesse took me upstairs, layed down on the bed that was pushed up against the wall with the open window. He turned on the bedside radio, turned me on my stomach, placing me between him and the windowed wall. He did not want me to roll over and fall off the bed, so he lay down on the side of the bed away from the wall to sort of pen me onto the bed. He put his hand on my back and I quieted down and went to sleep.
So did he.
I woke up, sat up and was curious about the curtains and the window. I explored the window opening and managed to unlatch the base of the screen. I crawled out the window and was hanging by my fingers and screaming when Jesse woke up.
Jesse could not figure out where the screaming was coming from. He looked around the room, did not see me, figured the screaming was coming from outside, rushed downstairs and tore around to the side of the house. He found me hanging from the second-story window.
He pulled off his belt and swung at me, trying to get me to let go and drop down into his waiting arms. However, the belt snapped me in the legs and I was so stunned by the pain, I climbed right back up and into the window.
When he came back upstairs, I was whimpering, sitting on the bed and sucking my thumb. He called me the little monkey from then on.
I remember pictures of me as a toddler penned on the front porch of the house on the ranch. I was about one and half or two. The wire base of a crib is tied to the opening on the porch in an effort to keep me in. However, I was very good at getting things open. I worked at the lashings, locks, catches, latches and hinges for hours of dedicated concentration.
My grandmother Leona came up for a visit and told the story of tethering me on a rope leash to the clothesline. I could move from one end of the line to the other. A neighbor came to visit and was visibly shocked that I was leashed like a yard dog. My behavior was way outside the normal for a little girl. I was constantly in motion and was a consummate escape artist.
I got things under control by the time I was in second grade. I could sit in a chair quietly most of the time. And by the fifth grade, I could control my motormouth pretty much all of the time.
My grandmother Leona used a game to get me to learn to control my incessant talking. We were going downtown for some reason and were dressed up and sitting on a bus bench waiting for a bus to come. My grandmother bet me a quarter that I could not be quiet until the next red car passed us by. I was about 8 or 9. I tried very hard. I remember starting to bubble over when I spotted a red car, but I put my hand over my mouth and pointed, pulling on my grandmother's arm to get her attention on the red car.
She did this twice, so that I got two quarters. Then she would not play the game anymore. She said she would be broke and that I had proved I could be quiet if I really wanted to. Thus, I was paid to learn to control my mouth.
When my grandson Nathan had his birthday last week, I gave him a pair of furry spider monkeys that make a loud sort of natural screech.
They reminded me of me.
# posted by Dornar @ 9:21 AM 
